Our Glass Half Full Days
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: A lack of mouthwash and a newfound tickle spot equal CSINut214's birthday gift.


_Oh Michelle and her wonder-osity. I make up words because of her. Look at that!_ _Her betawonderful. Lauren's birthdayyay as well. _

_Radish dear, glad to be your friend; glad to write with you; glad to be able to bitch with you about all of the dumb shit. Just glad. _

* * *

After their first bout of lovemaking, he told her, "I enjoy the backs of your knees." It had been spoken while he was reclining in bed, perusing a non-descript magazine. He had his glasses on but was bare-chested, the linens pooled at his waist.

Sara was still in the process of waking as he spoke and so she cracked an eye and peered up at him. How awkward, she didn't feel awkward at all. She could smell her own breath, pungent and stale, and her lips felt cracked and dry. Yet, she smiled up at him from her position amongst the pillows. He smiled back, and with his right hand, began sliding his index and middle finger up the ridges of her spine as he feigned utter interest in whatever he was reading.

Her body sunk into the mattress, her eyes sliding closed again, "And why," came her breathy little moan, "Do you like... the backs of my knees?"

The meandering of his digits paused and then the pads of his fingers pulled away.

"I did a little experiment," he explained, banally, as he flipped a page in the magazine. "You sighed rather loudly this morning," and with that he arched a brow lasciviously, "and thus... I may have run my fingers behind your knees while you were sleeping."

Sara yawned and settled herself on her back, her left breast being cradled by a fraction of the fine cotton. "And?"

Grissom smiled and daintily shut his magazine and then turned so that he was nearly nose-to-nose with her. "Honey, you purred like a feline at a feast."

The eroticism of the moment, the unabashed lust simmering in his gaze, coupled with the tangerine light filtering in between his heavy drapes, cast a surreal glow around the room and circumstances. Suddenly, her smile was shy and delightful and she tilted her head down, left cheek just dusting against the pillow. "Well," and then she could come up with nothing. The moment was far too unreal, the way her skin felt-ridiculous. Her heart was thumping like a native's drum in her chest, wildly, viciously untamed.

"Well," he growled in placid, even delight as he descended on her, sliding his big body up and on, smothering her in skin. Sara's breath escaped her in a rushed laugh and it took all of her power not to avoid his eyes. Facetiously, he made to nip off the end of her nose and when she snuffled a laugh, he stole her lips with his, plunging his tongue easily inside.

Her pelvis ground against his, the sticky, wet heat from between her legs sliding against the material of his boxers. It was decidedly unladylike, how she reacted, bucking her hips into him, coughing out a groan while attempting not to swallow his tongue.

Sara had always imagined-in the small part of her mind that she gave regularly to fantasy-that he would be caring and slow. And yet, Grissom was sloppy and smothering, sliding against her with lazy purpose, tasting her mouth as though he had all the time in the world to categorize the exact flavor.

For her part, Sara slung a leg over his hips, bringing his hardness into the vee of her thighs, the both of them groaning at the contact. Grissom sputtered and caught himself on the edge of her lips, panting hard as he managed to sneak and open palm around her ass, up her thigh and behind her other knee, his fingers tickling there.

Sara laughed and he too laughed, the vibrations running through the other, their lips skewed, met in the middle. Their laughing, for a moment, took a toll on their coordination and then breathed and pecked rather than delving into ardent kisses.

The flesh of his cock rose and met with her wet heat, a fraction of his skin finding its way out of the cotton prison.

With a slick hiss and a sigh, Grissom pulled back and wriggled his way out of the damp material. Spreading over her, Sara watched with hazy eyes as the orange slit from between the curtain slid down the smooth skin of his back.

It was interesting, feeling age-old, like she was crumbling and yet she felt as though she was being touched for the first time. She felt like crying but in her head there was a pop song playing on loop. It was fantastic, fabulous, fancy-free.

She began playing with as spine as if it was an abacus, sliding up over each notch and delighting in the dip between the swell of bone and tendon. He hummed for a second before nuzzling his nose into her neck. "This could be good," he whispered as though he were talking to no one in particular.

Sara's mouth quirked up into an amused half-smile and she tilted her head slightly, prompting him to pull away to meet her eyes. "Yes, it could be," and he smiled, sliding rolling his hips so that the head of his cock bumped against the warm skin of her sex. "But let's not jinx it," her eyes fluttered a few times, like the wings of a jay and then fell shut as he moved his hand from her knee and wrapped it around his hardness.

"How about we," Grissom slid in slightly, Oh, jesus, how about we call it good for now with a chance of… getting better?" His knees screamed and thus he pressed the rest of the way in, his stomach lying heavily upon hers.

Peeking one eye open, she smiled, "Deal."

With her back propped against the pillows she felt like she was being pampered, like he was pampering her completely with his body, like it was a leisurely pleasure to be within his arms. And it was, it was pure luck, pure chance, pure…

Sweaty and disgusting and sticky, she had never felt so lightly dusted with love, like she had nothing to prove, as though there was nothing beyond the confines of the big bed. For the moment, there wasn't; there wasn't anything other than his scratchy skin and chapped lips.

It was fantastic and messy and afterwards, he stroked her behind her knees and made her sigh.

Sara didn't much care that her skin was overly sweaty back there and neither, apparently, did he.


End file.
